


The Murder of Tyrell Wellick

by BlueberryBagels



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark-ish, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fugitives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, POV First Person, POV Multiple, Psychosis, Trust Issues, Tyrell does bad stuffs, Unrequited, What is love, World Travel, anger issues, baby don't hurt me no more, both unstable, cute and messed up at the same time, elliot is a confused mess, i told my boyfriend i only write fluff, they both really effed up, tyrell is in like, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueberryBagels/pseuds/BlueberryBagels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrell needs to run, and he wants Elliot to come with him. Elliot and Mr. Robot are battling for control. </p><p>NOTE: As of 10/26/17, updates are on the way!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He showed up on my doorstep about a half hour after his face showed up on a screen in Times Square. “CEO of Evil Corp, Tyrell Wellick, murdered. Whereabouts of suspects Scott Knowles and Joanna Wellick unknown.”

It was raining. Drenched from head to toe he looked almost like a sea nymph from Greek mythology, here to seduce me to join him in the depths. The top four buttons of his dress shirt were missing, a bruise blemished his otherwise flawless face. Despite all this he exuded the same haughty air, stood there as if he was in a meeting rather than having just risen from the dead. “I need your computer.” His hands were gloved in bright blue latex almost as striking as his eyes.

“Would you be honest and tell me if you’re a hallucination?”

“Let me in first.”

I stepped aside, eyeing him suspiciously as he closed the door behind him and twisted the lock, attached the chain to the latch on the wall. His face was flushed and chest rose at a rate that suggested he ran all the way here. But from where? The morgue?

Water dripped on the floor as he walked over to my desktop and sat down. I grabbed a towel and cleaned up after him; didn’t want to slip later. “Would you let me… hit you, to see if you’re real?”

He turned, hands still on the keyboard, eyebrows raised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? About me being a hallucination. Fine but if you hit me I’ll hit you back.”

I stood there for a while, not moving, and eventually he continued whatever he was doing on my computer. He muttered something about missing KDE just before my palm smacked the side of his face. My hand stung, but I felt no other pain from it. Not like when I hit Mr. Robot. For a moment I thought he might stand up, but instead he just smiled. “Luckily I like it rough, Elliot, and I like you. Otherwise I’d knock you onto the floor.”

I didn’t know what to say. Not ten minutes before this I had been on the brink of mourning his death, wishing I had decided to work with him when I had the chance. The last time I had seen him was about a month ago, just after he became CEO of Evil Corp and the most powerful and dangerous man in the world.

The restaurant was completely empty except for the two of us, and the staff, of course. I picked at my Caesar salad while he devoured a plate full of takifugu sashimi. The fish was toxic, and if it was cut incorrectly he could die. Maybe that was why he chose it. Since he had gotten back from Japan he couldn’t stand American food, he told me. I should go sometime. I would love it.

We had been having these secret meetings a lot over the past year so I found it a lot easier to talk to him… I felt shy as opposed to paralyzed. A colossal step, an honor, he said.

“Elliot, I want you to know that my status hasn’t changed anything. If you ever need something, just give me a ring on that phone I gave you. I’d drop anything for you.”

“But why, Tyrell? You act like I’m so special, but you’ve said it yourself that I’m just ordinary…a nothing.”

“Elliot! You know that isn’t true, I said you were _extraordinary_ yet prone to human banalities. Don’t turn compliments into a dismissal of your personal value. Okay?” He waved a waiter over, requested two shots of vodka like it was a cheap bar as opposed to a restaurant that didn’t even put prices on the menu and asked for credit cards instead of handing out bills.

“To answer your inquiry, you’re the only person I trust, Elliot. I pride myself in my ability to read people like a book. How do you think I knew what you did with fsociety without any proof?” The waiter came back and Tyrell gave him the same pitiable smile as the waiter who served us salad at Steel Mountain. I made a face when a glass of clear liquid was placed in from of me. Tyrell chucked, and I wondered if he kept me around for his own amusement.

“Drink, I insist. We’ll make a toast to…our strange and eternal relationship.” He raised his glass and waited until I lifted mine, clinking them together and tilting his head back more elegantly than I thought was possible. I tried not to get any on my chin. “Besides all that Elliot, I like you. I enjoy our time together rather than wishing I had a pistol to blow my brains out.” He laughed and grinned as if that were a normal thing to say. It feels weird to admit it but I actually feel like I could tell him anything. He makes me feel like I’m not alone. He was such an odd person that he might shrug even if I told him I’d murdered someone and simply ask how it made me feel. I think he would only react that way for me. I think he would tell me anything, too.

“—and so I’m wiping any footage picked up by security cameras that could reveal my whereabouts. You’re safe, I promise.” I had fallen so deep into my reverie that I missed half of what he was saying.

“I saw… you’re supposed to be dead. Please don’t tell me I’ve lost my mind…”

“Oh Elliot,” he said my name so much but I had yet to figure out why. “I can see that you’re concerned about your sanity but you’re exactly right. I am dead, to everyone outside of this room.” Spinning around in the chair he looked up at me. I often wondered if it was possible for him to hypnotize me with only a look, for when our eyes locked a strange feeling came over me, one that made me want to reach out and touch him. “I promise that I will explain everything. But in the meantime can you just… trust me, on blind faith? Or if you can’t, I’ve figured out a way to slowly transfer my money into an account that no one will be able to trace. Other people’s money as well, but that’s another story altogether. Anyway, the point is that I can give you whatever you want, if that’s what it takes.”

“I don’t want your money, you should know that by now. That’s not what I care about. I… we’re friends, right? You said it yourself. I don’t have many friends, or even people that I can talk to like this…I must ask, will you miss the rustling of your starched suits?”

“Excuse me?”

“Men like you, they wear expensive and uncomfortable clothes in order to seem superior. Like how they used to make Chinese girls bind their feet around the time Genghis Khan still ruled half of the world.” Did I say all this out loud? Where was this coming from?

He was madder than when I slapped him. As he rose to his feet I retreated until my calves collided with the table. “ _Men like me?_ Don’t compare me with those imbeciles Elliot.”

At last, I believed him. I felt comfortable with him being here. It would be difficult not to question his presence but right now… maybe I could go with the flow. He finally staggered away from the computer, shoving the chair behind him so that it would have fallen if I wasn’t there to catch it. “Are you on something?” I asked him this because his motions seemed exaggerated, less precise than usual.

“Me? Intoxicated?” It seemed as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he sat on my couch and stared at me. Maybe it soothed him, I don’t know. Tyrell Wellick, what had he done, exactly? Why did he involve himself with me? I had never believed his excuses. I didn’t speak. Watching him calm down was fascinating. He could infuriate himself silently but calm himself just as easily. I wonder if I look the same when I battle with myself.

“You believe in love.” What a presumptuous thing to say. But that’s Tyrell. “I don’t. It’s superficial. Sometimes lust can be so overwhelming that you think you’re in love but someone else will evoke that same lust within you, and you fall in love again. The cycle repeats until you realize that you’re only driven by your instincts. You beg for the pleasure, that’s all that anyone works for…you realize that right? The problem is that people find pleasure in… either the same or incompatible things.”

“You sound like… almost like the thoughts I have.”

I’ve earned a chuckle. “What do you think love feels like?” He didn’t wait for an answer, of course. “When you honestly worry about someone’s well being when you’re away from them. When seeing their name, even in a book or a magazine, makes your heart skip a beat and your mind wander. When you miss them when you’re apart and constantly wonder about the bath wash they use. The horrid smelling Axe or a gentle bar of soap infused with vanilla and honey.”

I couldn’t quite put my finger on where he was going with this. I happened to bathe with the latter. “What’s made you start thinking about love all of the sudden?”

His mouth droops into the perfect frown. “I’m really not sure if I am human. There a small chance that I may be something else, right? An android, perhaps. A faulty one, abandoned in the world to make its own way.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I’m cold, Elliot. Every action and emotion is premeditated, forced. I am the world’s best actor. I’m not sure that I can love. And yet…” His head turned my way so suddenly that I was startled, took a few steps away from him. “No, don’t do that. Come here.” I listened. It was obvious that he was not in the mood to be argued with. I sat down beside him and didn’t flinch when he grabbed onto my hands. “Tell me why I worry about _you_? Why do I hope we have the same dreams when I lay down to go to sleep? I think about you a lot, Elliot. That’s why I came here, to you. We’re together, it’s where we belong.”

I felt a lump in my throat that grew and grew as his gloved thumbs drew circles on the back of my hands. “I think about you too, sometimes…”

“I know.” His eyes were rimmed with red and tears pooled, ready to fall. “I feel out of control. I hate the feeling. But when I’m with you I forget everything… Tyrell who? E what? But Elliot Alderson…I trace his features and scribble his words into the notepad of my brain.” Morphing into something incomprehensible he began to laugh so loud that I had no choice but to cover his mouth with my hands, muffling his guffaws with the sleeves of my hoodie. He was as unstable as I was, in his own way.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on or I throw you back out on the street!”

He peered at me until I removed my hands. Seemed to have come back to his senses.

“You won’t do that.” Could he control my thoughts? “Come. Run away with me.”

“I have a job.”

“Elliot! I will not repeat my sentiments about AllSafe. They are literally shutting down in a week. Anyway, I wasn’t asking. I need you to come with me.”

“You expect me to leave, right now, with--”

“You over complicate things in your head! No, we will not be leaving today. We need a car. I just ordered one online. It will be parked a few blocks away. Key is an encrypted file stored in a USB strapped under the hood somewhere. It’ll be a hassle finding it but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

Tyrell Wellick. He’s the type of person who could get convicted of a felony and still make you say ‘Poor Baby.’ Although I hate to admit it I would basically do anything he told me to do, which says a lot about how much of an idiot I am.

“Also, I’ve got some men moving a bunch of things we need into a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They think I’m an anonymous foreign diplomat or something. We’ll stop there, grab and go. Then we have to leave the northeast. Figure out a way to leave the country. At least go somewhere to start our lives anew.”

It still didn’t make sense. Why me? Why couldn’t he just go alone? What was I to him? He clasped my face in his hands, bringing it closer to his own. “Close your eyes. Hear the Redwoods rustling in the wind. The shushing of a stream and the smooth rocks we’ll skip across its surface.” My eyes closed, I felt him remove his hands, heard him slip them out of the gloves. My heart began to race… had I been waiting for this?

He had the soft hands of a man who had never done physical labor in his life. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to climb inside of my hoodie and kiss my neck… well, it didn’t matter what I wanted because I am rarely in control of my own body. I felt a sense of panic at being touched, especially so intimately while completely sober.

When I opened my eyes I saw his fluttering closed, his face painted with a dreamy expression. He had resumed his exploration of my face, dragging a finger over my bottom lip like he wanted me to put it in my mouth. Instead, I frantically moved away from him. “I-I can’t.” I hated to see him frown, to lose that contentment I imagine is rare for him to experience.

“Oh, right… I forgot you don’t like to be touched.” The sadness that clouded his eyes was almost too much for me to bear.

“I wish that I did,” I could feel him look at me as I fidgeted with my hands in my lap. “It felt nice, but I just can’t… right now.” My stress levels were through the roof. Only one word rang through my head: _morphine, morphine, mor-phine, morph-ing._

He moved as if he wanted to console me, but played it off by running his fingers through his hair. It immediately fell out of place again. “I understand. Seeing you like this has kind of…brought me back. It’s been a long day and I’ve tossed a lot on you. You’re confused, probably don’t trust me, and now I’m doing this… I understand and I’m…sorry. I hope that maybe, one day, that-”

“We can try again tomorrow.” I was still shaking but he was really getting to me. Reaching out to me through the darkness, I would try my best to let him save me, to allow myself to be pulled towards the surface and keep him from plunging in after me. God knows nobody would try to save Tyrell Wellick. Nobody but me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last calm morning...until Mr. Robot's debut. SMUT. Not exactly consensual...

I convinced myself that it had all been a dream before I even opened my eyes the next morning. The pit in my stomach grew and grew as the truth dawned on me—he was really dead. Tyrell was dead. He’d been kind enough to say goodbye through my dreams but even then I refused to let myself participate in whatever it was we did. My eyes burned, signaling the coming tears. The only thing that soothed my pain was the fact that…the shower was running. 

Now I could only feel fear. Was I still dreaming? It was cold this morning; summer was officially behind us. My pajamas were slightly too big for me. I bunched the sleeves into my hands as I tiptoed over to the bathroom door, which was slightly agape. 

“Elliot?” I imagine one of those children’s cartoons, where they show a cat getting scared and they jump up and freeze in the air, hair on their back sticking straight up. Internally that’s what happened to me. I quickly directed my path towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring into it though my unfocused eyes saw nothing. “Is that you?” 

That voice. That voice was like warm caramel drizzled over a cake just pulled out of the oven. My hoodie just after I take it out of the dryer. Velveteen. The comforting burn whiskey leaves behind in your throat. 

“Yeah.” I spoke slowly, struggling against the urge to stutter. “Kitchen.” 

I turned when the door creaked open. He walked out wearing black boxers and slicking back his damp hair. “Good morning,” he said, flashing me a sleepy grin. 

“Hey,” I said, searching for something else in the room I could justify turning my eyes to. Thinking of something normal to say. “Aren’t you cold?”

I wouldn’t look at him again until his body was so close that it obstructed my vision of the rest of the room. Swallowing hard, I mustered up as much courage as I could and looked him in the eyes. They crinkled in amusement. I became lost in them. “Terribly so. I think I might spend the rest of the morning in your bed, if you’d like to join me.” 

He seemed to saunter as he left me standing there out of breath and battling with myself. I followed him as if a string attached us, and I stood beside the bed while he huddled under the blankets. His eyes closed, then opened shortly after to give me an expectant look. “I could lay on the couch, if it would make you feel better.”

“No.” I blurted out, making me blush and eliciting a smile from Tyrell. Tyrell, he was actually here. Maybe if I were someone else, someone normal, I would have tackled him as soon as he emerged from the bathroom. Once again I had accepted that he was dead, once again he proved me wrong. I gave in and hurried into bed, pulling the blankets over my head until my heart rate began to slow. We were facing one another. He was so close that his breath tickled my face. His hand was positioned as an offering, if I wanted it. I knew he expected nothing from me, would be okay with it either way, but last night I told him I would try. Carefully I laced my trembling fingers together with his, and I realized that I hated myself. But he was happy, oh so happy. 

“This is why I want you to be with me.” Did he mean when he left, or in some other way? If I agreed to go with him, was I agreeing to something else as well? “For moments like this.” Pulling our hands closer to him, he grazed his lips against each of my fingers as gently as he could before placing them back on the bed. How did I manage to resist him? I wouldn’t call it will power; it was more of a confused stubbornness that a sensible voice in the back of my head gives me a hard time about. 

“I’m sorry I’m not saying more, I’m just… tired.” He nodded, but I assumed he saw right through me. 

“Don’t apologize. I feel groggy today myself.” When he let go of my hand I was…oddly disappointed. His fingers began to caress my shoulder so lightly that I almost didn’t feel it. “I know that I need to explain everything to you, especially why I’m not dead. To reassure you that I’m not a figment of your imagination, though I am touched that you care about me so much that you think you would see me even after I was dead. Anyway, maybe we can put the heavy stuff off for one more day and enjoy one of the last calm moments we might have for some time.” 

“Okay.” I inched my hand up to move his to the back of my neck, giving him permission to touch me there if he wanted. Tyrell made a sound and I wondered if it was hard for him not to pull me in closer for a kiss. “I-I think I might want to drink. Today. So that we can-” 

“I won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk, Elliot. I refuse. No.” His face grew dark. 

“Please, don’t look so upset. I just want to be able to touch you. You get to touch me and it’s not… fair.”

He growled and suddenly our foreheads were touching. “Is that what you want, Älskling?” His hand slid to my lower back and his fingers dug into me, almost as if he were trying to stop them from moving any lower. “To touch me.”

Although I felt as if I couldn’t move, my pants grew tighter around my crotch. I hoped he didn’t realize. “Y-yes. But Tyrell…not yet, okay?”

It took several deep breaths before he would pull away, tangling his fingers into his hair and tugging as if the pain would calm him down. “I am an animal, Elliot.” I began staring at a spot on the bed when he turned towards me, his eyes once again rimming in red. I was worried he might lose it, but maybe he was calming himself down? “When I get mad… it’s like my mind is blank. I can’t see. I can’t think, or control myself at all. The same thing happens when I want someone, truly want someone. Not for what I can gain, not for their body, but for their spirit and heart and mind and…body as well. All of it. So if you want me to stop, tell me early on. Like you just did. When I can still snap out of it, otherwise I’m worried you won’t be able to look at me afterwards. And then I’ll become angry. Okay, Elliot? Do you…understand what I’m saying?”

He wanted my spirit. My mind. My… And his desire drove him mad. Oh, how I wish things were different. How. I. Wish. All I could do was nod, but that seemed to be enough for him. He lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. 

 

I’m happy that time goes slow when we’re together. 

 

 

 

 

 

I knew about Mr. Robot, although I had promised to pretend otherwise. Elliot fell asleep out of nowhere, and I slowly walked my fingers beneath the flannel of his shirt. Waiting, until the inevitable—

“Oh, Tyrell. You’re so patient with me.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut. Although I enjoyed the affection, I wanted my Elliot. My Elliot. Not some, alternative, distorted version. My Elliot. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.” Cold hands clasped behind my neck. I knew I must stay strong. 

“I know you’re here because you can’t bear to leave me behind.” What should I call him? Just HIM, or IT? Because no matter what thoughts were consuming that beautiful mind, I knew it wasn’t Elliot speaking to me. “Come here, Tyrell. Climb on top of me.” 

“No.” I said, attempting to pry the dead hands off of me. Is this what Elliot remembered? This hatred I felt for the creature that stole him from me? The coldness, the distance… “Do something else.” I sat up quickly before anything could happen. I walked over to the computer so I could work on whatever I needed to work on. Classified. I’d only tell this to Elliot. “You haven’t eaten, go find something.”

I sat sideways so that I would see him if he began coming my way. He was an asshole sometimes, and I’m an asshole all of the time, so I can’t handle that sort of thing. I need to be around people who are timid. People who will push me away gently rather than shoving their drunken tongue down my throat until I choke them and they yell and I cum. 

No. I wouldn’t speak to him while he was like this. I wanted my Älskling. Not this aberration. "Baby,” his arms snaked around my neck, hands slithered over my chest, scraping his tailored nails over my nipples the way he knows I like. “You don’t love me anymore?” His voice was crooning, seductive, and it felt unfaithful to succumb to his will. Not that Elliot and I had anything going on…

“Stop it. Now.” Love? The word never slipped from my lips. I couldn’t feel love. What was it? It was nothing. A myth. A fantasy. A—“Please, Elliot. Just leave me alone. I’m tired. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” 

“But your body begs for me. Head goes dizzy when I’m around. You’ve told me yourself.” Lips pressed against my neck before the nipping began. The sucking that might leave a mark and confuse Elliot whenever Mr. Robot let him go. 

But I couldn’t stop him, because he looked the same. His actions were more confident but his eyes still made my stomach stir. Although his words were foreign, he spoke in the voice of my sweet, sweet Elliot. Who I cared for so much…but felt nothing more. I refused to believe it was anything more. 

He straddled my lap once it became clear that he had me. This sparked a fury that made me stand and toss him on the bed. I was the dominant one. I would not be had. 

In his eagerness he tore his shirt off as quickly as possible, offered it to me. I wrapped it around his wrists, tying it as tightly as I could. The sight of him made my erection grow, and when I pulled off his boxers and pants with one tug, I saw he was enjoying it as well. 

I climbed over him, staring down at him with sad eyes. Elliot… But the sadness could only last so long when he squirmed beneath me, sitting up as far as he could while trying to reach my lips. I shoved him back down by the shoulder. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered against his cheek, planting small kisses along his jawline. Cutting him off before he could speak, I crashed my lips against his, grinding my clothed hips against him. “What have you done with Elliot?” I demanded, grasping onto whatever sense I had left. 

“Gone.” I moaned when he matched my movements, moving his hips against mine. “Why would you want him, I always do so much more for you.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Fine. I would. I balanced myself by holding him down with one hand, reached down to grab his cock with the other. Our tongues tangled together passionately. I pulled away to bite down on his lip so hard that it bled. He looked up at me and smiled, gladly licking up the blood. I saw a tear drop onto his face. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, inhaled sharply, then allowed myself to let go. 

I moved my hand from his wrists to his throat, choking him only enough for him to let out a moan. My hand slid along his shaft at varying speeds, using his precum for lubrication. Soon we were both fully erect. I got out of my boxers positioned myself right above his mouth. “Suck.”

He took me all the way into his mouth, flicking his tongue while he looked me in the eye until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I leaned forward and began fucking his throat. I opened my eyes from time to time to make sure he was okay, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. “I’ve shut you up now, haven’t I?” The only thing I could hear was the sound my dick made as it went in and out. “Fuck,” I quickly pulled out, worried I would come before we got to the good part. I moved from on top of him and told him to flip over. He did, and then stuck his ass in the air, knowing what would come next. 

I pulled him by the legs until he was dangling off the side of the bed. “Please, please fuck me Tyrell, I want to be yours.” 

“Shut up.” My voice was nothing but a feral growl now. I spread him apart, too furious to admire his pretty little asshole. Instead I sucked on my thumb for a second before rubbing it, making him squirm. Then reached forward, putting my hand under his head. “Spit.” Once I was satisfied I lubed him up, sticking my middle finger knuckle deep as a way of warming him up.

I swore at him and called him names as I shoved two, then three fingers inside of him. I was searching for a certain spot. “Oh! Again baby, please.” My fingers teased him mercilessly for a little longer, and then I stopped so suddenly that he started whimpering. I made him spit on my fingers again, until his mouth was dry. 

This. This feeling. 

It must mean I don’t love him. That I will always be cold. 

I eased into him, because no matter how much I hated him at the moment I knew that my cock was quite a lot to take. I found the spot he liked. Held his bound hands hard against his back. If I hurt him I didn’t care. Then, I fucked him. Hard and angrily like a wild animal. And his moans mingled together with screams. Tears fell again but I didn’t notice them. 

All of the sudden, something felt different. 

“T-Tyrell?” I heard the timidity in his voice, but it was too late now. An echo in my head screamed, It’s him, it’s him, please don’t let it be him, he can’t know yet, he can’t…

Maybe if it had been him from the start I would have been gentler. More composed. But I was so angry that his other side had taken over that I slammed into him as if I could push Mr. Robot out of him. I suppose it worked. “Wh-what’s ha-ha-happening.” I knew it felt good for him. I knew he was confused, conflicted, close to coming, and above all, scared. He moaned and moaned, and so did I. “I-I-I’m-” It was clear to me what that meant. 

I let go of his hands and clutched his hips so hard that I knew there would be bruises later. I fucked him so hard that the bed slammed against the wall and shifted on the floor. He screamed my name and shuddered when he came. I followed shortly after, groaning, shooting my load deep inside of him. I pulled out slowly. Untied his hands, tossed his pajamas beside him on the bed. And then I collapsed on the ground, head in my hands as Elliot curled into a ball. Violated and dazed and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Furiously Apologizes, Rosary in Hand* 
> 
> The last time I wrote a sex scene I was in middle school and still thought Hermione and Draco would get together once the seventh HP book came out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath. Mostly chatting.

He started using again, and he wouldn’t speak to me. Just like I said. My anger manifested in dark bruises appearing in random places on my body. Elliot could barely look at me, so he certainly didn’t mention it. During the afternoons when he passed out in a drug-induced haze, I’d check his pulse before locking myself in the bathroom and turning on the shower. I’d scream sometimes. Pull my hair. Start trembling violently until I realized that none of it was enough. I hit myself harder than I’d ever hit anyone before. Several times. Once I had hit my head so hard that I fell onto the ground, sobbing as my whole body throbbed and my vision went in and out. I heard him walk to the door, a gentle tap, but after a moment he walked away. 

Elliot... please, please. Let me explain. I never meant to hurt you, PLEASE. Come back to me…

Mr. Robot hadn’t appeared since that day. I was not sure I could handle it if he did… but it would be nice to at least hear Elliot’s voice. I heard him crying sometimes, but that wasn’t the same. 

All of this aside, I needed to leave. I needed to get the fuck out of New York. Elliot hadn’t been checking the news but I was. Everyday and night. Religiously. Still couldn’t find Scott Knowles or Johanna, but evidence against them was piling up bit by bit. I don’t want to say if that is my doing or not. But it is. I see that people are planning a funeral for me and I don’t want to be here for that. I need to leave. But I need Elliot to be with me. He needs me just as much. Especially now… 

One day, as I was pressing my thumb into my bruises one by one, I saw him black out.

I sat at the desk or kitchen table during the days now, and he rarely moved from a chair in the corner of the room until he went to sleep on the couch. I tried not to look over when I heard him crushing and inhaling. The sigh. The tilt of his head as he let it drain down his throat and contaminate his blood. He could stare at the wall for hours. Today I heard him doing several lines. I couldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t see his head lull back all of the sudden. I was silent for a minute, but then realized he wasn’t getting up. 

“Elliot?” I said his name tentatively. The second time I raised the volume. I began walking over to him as I said his name a third time. I shook him lightly but he wouldn’t wake up. I checked his vitals. Breath was shallow, heart was racing. “Wake up Elliot. Please. Elliot. Elliot?” 

I began to panic. Picking him up I brought him over to the bed. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. Still no change. I sat next to him, putting his head in my lap. “Elliot? Elliot. Please, please wake up.” I didn’t know what else to say. Tears welled behind my eyes. Fingers shaking, I began to caress his face. Minutes went by. Checked his vitals. 

I held him in my arms, pressed my cheek against his forehead while I cried. “Älskling,” I choked out, “M-m-min kärlek, please. We’re supposed to run away together, remember? I still need to tell you what happened, I still need you. Please, Elliot, please. Vänligen lämna mig inte.” 

A cough. Followed by several more. I quickly felt around for the water, tilting his head up while I held it to his lips. I buried my face into the top of his head as he drank. When he finished I took it from him and placed it on the ground, careful not to make a sound. “Mm, Tyrell.” He turned over and nuzzled his face into my chest. My heart thumped and I wonder if he could hear it. “You’re so warm.”

My voice was high and cracked as I said, “Herregud, du är okej. Inte skrämma mig igen, kan du inte göra det för mig. I was so afraid, I couldn’t breathe, oh Elliot…”

My shirt grew damp. I held him closer. “Why, Tyrell? Why did you do that to me? I told you that I would try, that I couldn’t…” 

We cried there for a while, tears intermingling and stinging our eyes as we stayed wrapped up in one another. “I never wanted to hurt you, I hate myself because of it, I can’t look at myself in the mirror, I’m so-”

“When I was out… I spoke to him. My da-Mr. Robot. He told me everything. But why didn’t you just push him away, you know it’s still me.”

“That’s exactly why I couldn’t help myself! Because it’s you, I… it’s hard sometimes, Älskling, for me to hear your voice and see your face peering up at me, wanting me, I can’t resist. But this last time, I was so mad. So angry because I knew what I was doing was wrong, my feelings get stronger everyday and… I was mad at him. I just wanted him to shut up, to leave, to bring you back to me!” 

He looked at me for the first time in over a week. A weak hand brushed up against the swelling on my face. I tried not to wince. Although I would have preferred he remained in my arms he sat up, lifting my shirt with eyebrows raised. I looked away. I didn’t want to see what his expression had to say about the damage I had done to myself. “You’ve done this because of me?”

I said nothing, because I couldn’t. I refused to blame it on him, but no matter what I said that’s how he would see it. But then—“Tyrell? Please answer me.”

“I deserved it.” I grazed his hand as I took my shirt out of his fingers and hid my bruises from him. “Do you think that there’s anyway we can fix this?” I was willing to plead, beg on my hands and knees. Why was I feeling like this? Ah, so many questions were always running through my head. Indecision, some thoughts unrecognizable from others, my feelings a jumbled mess always torn in a civil war of yes versus no, cold versus warm, hate versus that word I refused to say, never, ever, never, ever… 

But I already had. Min kärlek.

 

That was all just wishful thinking, though. What really happened was a lot more…expected. He pushed me away so fast that I nearly fell off the bedside. 

“Get away from me.” Elliot had bags around his bloodshot eyes. His chest rose and fell so rapidly I thought he might be having a panic attack. I stared at him a long time before standing up and lingering to make sure he was actually okay. 

 

Could I forgive him? 

It had felt good but afterwards I felt so empty. He said nothing to me. There was a gaping feeling filling my chest as if my heart was broken, but why would it be broken? He could have explained himself. He could have consoled me. I would have listened…wouldn’t I? Why didn’t I remember the beginning of this? Could Mr. Robot have…

Tyrell was unstable. I could tell by the way his eyes bulged and how the slight smile on his face attempted to cover the mania going on in his head. I wish I knew what he was thinking. 

I also wish I had the strength to make him leave. When I thought about what happened I got a dazed look on my face and felt the roaring in my head as my depression inflamed my eyes and tore my soul apart. That look… those Swedish words, what did it all mean? Was there anything Tyrell could say to take it all away? I wished there were. Even if it wasn’t true I felt as if he were all I had. I knew I was all he had. 

Was I strong enough? He was the tough one, could I be strong for him? I hated seeing that face, hated seeing him slowly destroy himself, covering his creamy skin with ugliness. Blank faced as he hurt himself again, and again. It’s not like he... raped me. At least not intentionally. I now understood how pushy I could be when I was under Mr. Robot’s control. I knew how hard it must be for him. But it was so hard to just forget, how my cries hadn’t fazed him. Plus, it would be self-depreciating to blame myself and see him as the victim. But Mr. Robot said that I instigated this…? Tyrell must be confused at the very least. 

Oh, Tyrell. What are we doing? I care for you but do I feel as deeply as you do? You look at me with bright eyes but all I feel is… I don’t know. Nervousness. I don’t like analyzing myself. That’s why I stopped seeing Krista.

But Mr. Robot seemed to feel something for the blonde. Was it just lust? Was I missing a whole aspect of our relationship, leading Tyrell around in circles, waiting for him to wear down and break? What did those Swedish words mean?

What did I say while I was gone?

He’s attractive. I won’t deny that. He turns his head and the flawless hair and chisel of his jaw makes my throat feel tight. I want to touch my fingers to his lips, make him smile at me again and make his blue eyes shimmer instead of dull. Blue, so blue, bluer than the sky and the ocean. 

He looked at me expectantly. I’d been silent for too long, but he wouldn’t press me. He seemed more on edge than I had ever seen him. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I could ever-”

“Please, Elliot. Oh please, I’d do anything, I would.” He grabbed at his hair. I was beginning to realize that this was an aggravated habit. “I hate feeling like this, I hate it.” His voice turned into something unrecognizable. I wanted it to stop. 

“What do you want me to do.” More monotonous than I had expected to sound. 

“Let me show you what it could be like… that what I did will never happen again. I won’t touch you if that’s what you want.” He struggled to get the words out. Evidently these were unprecedented sacrifices that he never expected to make. “In return… please come with me. Talk to me. Look at me. Stop taking morphine. Allow me to show you that I can make you happy, that I’m not as bad as I seem…”

No morphine? I would ignore that. “What if he comes back? What if he begs and begs you. Will you be able to resist?” 

“Of course.” His eyes were filled with tears again. “Yes, I would do anything for you baby-”

“Baby?” The word made my heart flutter. “What… why are we so close, Tyrell? I feel like I’m missing so much.”

I wasn’t expecting it but he began sobbing. I sat up all the way so that he was free enough to collapse in on himself, place his head in his hands. “Oh, my Älskling. There are so many things you don’t remember, so many words, so many whispers…”

“I hope they come back to me. The time I have lost.” He looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t remember my sister for… three months, at least.” He was quiet. Waiting for me to say something else. “I don’t doubt that there is no reason for you not to do the things you did. That we had gotten to that point. But maybe you need to… imagine our situation as if it were the beginning? And really try to erase everything else? And we can come up with a plan, together, about what we can do when he comes back.”

His hands were warm when they sandwiched my face between them. I could see him struggling to control his emotions when I pulled away. “Are you saying… are you saying that there’s hope?”

“I want to understand why… my body reacts the way it does when I’m around you. What made me want to start whatever this is in the first place? Why is it okay for you to call me ask link?” 

He chuckled at my failed Swedish. He wanted to kiss me. I couldn’t let him. This cat and mouse act was growing old but it’s not like I could force myself to do something that my mind was so split between. I could say that I wanted him and wanted him to leave in the same sentence and mean every word. 

“I just want to make you happy, Elliot.” He began to wrap my head in his arms, laying his head on my shoulder and nuzzling his face in my neck. “I’ve never felt like this. Please make me feel human. Make me feel alive.” 

 

The light was warm on the left side of my face while I waited for Elliot’s answer… or had I already gotten an answer? I didn’t know anymore. Okay, I was sick of fucking around. Do I love him? Is that why I feel like every word I say to him is as risky as spending ten k’s on a lottery ticket? As rowing out to sea in a boat I built out of straw and plywood? Elliot, oh Elliot. What have you done to me? I don’t recognize myself anymore. 

I wanted him to rest or something. He’d just been basically on the brink of death in my arms. Overdose. I was terrified of the word that whispered in my ear every time I heard him insufflating that blue powder up his nose. I was in no position to scold him for his drug use. Maybe later, if it continued…

“You can stay. I’ll go with you. Just… treat it like it’s a first date that drags on for days, maybe weeks. Months… a year. ” 

All I heard was that I could stay and that he would be with me. I wanted to clasp his hands in thanks. “Tell me what’s okay to do. I might not…know. I don’t want to…”

“You can touch my hands. And… if the moment seems right, you can touch my face. Make sure it’s me first but if I ever… want something more, then obviously you can do that something.”

Fucking tears. I’ve heard that if you inhale through your nose you can dry them up, keep them from falling. I’m sure I looked silly but it worked. 

“You think you’re so superior, don’t you?”

Music. I missed it. No matter the genre, the volume could curse my own mind out of its hiding place. Blur blur blurs it out.

“If you left right know I’d be nothing but a murmur. You’d forget about me and move on. You said it yourself; you’re cold.”

“Elliot…” I didn’t mean for it to but it came out as a warning. “Stop.”

“I am everything, I can do as I please. I am Tyrell Wellick. I am king.”

He was testing me. I could survive a test. Is there a song I could sing to myself? I should do something. “You need to get some rest.”

A horrid voice. “You know that nothing you say means anything. Lies and bitter shittle spewed by a worthless man who has lost everything.”

“Stop.”

“Shit and shit and shit some more, you are a nothing, a worthless nothing.”

I felt sick. I rose to my feet and my head spun. I gathered my strength and stormed towards the bathroom. He shouted after me. “I hate you Tyrell. I wish you would go but I can’t bare to say it.”

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. I locked the door behind me not because of what he might do but because of me. Did he see how willing I was to hurt myself? I would destroy him, pummel him until he was nothing but a pile of flesh curled up on the cheap faux wood flooring. I would say nothing else. 

Soon he began banging on the door. 

“Tyrell? Come out. I’m sorry. It’s all better.” A laugh. “You’re a fucking coward.”

I plugged my ears like a child and made the shower pour as loud as it was able. Could I help him or was this my future? I couldn’t leave him. This would be my life. I pressed my hands into my ears harder, until it hurt. 

Muffled voice or not, his words made me want to scream. 

Elliot, why do I even think you’re worth it? Is it because of the guilt I feel? Is it because I’m so alone? Or is it the look you give me when your mind is sharp? The eyes you give me when I make you want to smile. The warm spot you leave on my torso when you cuddle with me. The way you clutch at my side when your mind makes you worry that I’ll leave. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not weak enough to give in. I’m not strong enough to forget you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look up the Swedish. Please leave comments; they honestly help. I hope you guys liked it because I live to make society happy. Enjoy your day. Find something that brings you happiness. 
> 
> If you're a female, drinking 7 drinks a week puts you at high risk for alcoholism. For men, its 14 per week. -- wisdom from a high functioning alcoholic. 
> 
> <3 Blue


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally leave Elliot's apartment. Tyrell tells an embarrassing story and reminisces about the events leading up to his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! There are some gross/graphic things detailed in this chapter so please don't eat while reading if you've got a queasy stomach!! (You may be into that sort of thing, though, and I won't judge.)

I can pick locks.

He could barely see when I woke him up. The side of his head was red from resting against the door, and his eyes were red as well. He’d been curled up like he was suffering a beating before he drifted into what I assume was a restless slumber. Did I cause him more pain that he ever caused me? No. That wasn’t possible.

“Lay down, Tyrell.” I couldn’t pick him up but I could support him until he fell hard onto the mattress. I’m not sure if he was even aware of reality. He murmured things I didn’t understand. He took advantage of me and I shouldn’t care for him at all. I should leave him on the ground to suffer. 

I feel miserable about everything. I just want to get out of here. What was the word… stir crazy? We both needed to leave this apartment. But how would I explain the reason why I left, especially to Darlene? I didn’t even care. Why was this gorgeous man in front of me? Damaged because of me? Damaging me?

“When is the car getting dropped off?”

No response for a long time. But soon, the bed creaked under his weight and tired eyes locked onto mine. “End of the week. We’ll leave in the morning.”

I’m sick of asking questions, but what could I do? All I had were questions. Trust me, I tried pinching myself and I wouldn’t wake up from this. 

“Well, that’s good. We should start packing up, right? Like… well I have some food we could bring, and maybe a blanket? It is getting cold, we might need it. I don’t have much, but…” He had moved onto his back and stared at the ceiling. I hated when he did that. What did it mean? Was he thinking, or ignoring me? Trying to block me out? Thinking of all the mistakes that led him into my arms… “Tyrell?”

“That’s fine.” I hadn’t expected him to respond right away. “It’s all fine. Tell me if you need help.” His level voice chilled me. Made me sick. What had I done? This game, this fucking game! Who could end it, and could we settle via parlay or would someone wind up dead?

Tyrell was not the kind of person to turn timid and quiet out of nowhere. I’m not sure why I know him so well. He stayed quiet because he was afraid of what he would say if he let himself go. His eyes were too still. Body too tense. What I’d give to see him smirk at me in that cocky way of his. 

I took a risk and reached out to touch him. My fingers grazed his hair too gently. What the fuck was happening to us? We destroyed each other, was this even healthy? 

My fingers outlined his face for the first time. Stubble I had never noticed before pricked the tips of my fingers. I had a razor; he could shave whenever he wanted to. 

I’m still hazy from the morphine. 

Once again I realized I was afraid of Tyrell Wellick. I had no idea what kind of money and power this man possessed; it seemed that even though he was "dead" he could find someway to manipulate and bribe his way to happiness, whatever that may look like to him.

It also frightened me that he was capable of shutting himself off emotionally so quickly, even after everything that had happened between us. As we waited for the delivery of our getaway car the days drawled on and his sudden transformation from infatuated romantic to coy businessman made my life feel like a surreal chess match. Did he really have such machine-like control over his emotions? 

I watched him as he stared out of the window late at night, searching for something he’d never be able to find. Sometimes he would hum a tune, harmonizing with the sounds of an agitated city. I pictured his consciousness floating far away from these streets perfumed with garbage and the putrefying homeless. He could place himself in a rooftop garden somewhere, looking out at the glowing high-rises, drinking warm cognac and reveling in his kingship. I’d give anything to have the ability to find a “happy place” like that, even if the fading image left nothing but sorrow in its wake. Instead I daydreamed about finding enough morphine to last me for the rest of my life so that I didn’t have to fuck with withdrawals. Tyrell had more or less forbid me from leaving the apartment, but I convinced him that we needed more food. While I was out, I picked up three more bottles to add to the half I had left. I only took a little bit now, and was more discrete when I used. The reaction Tyrell would have if he caught me was unpredictable. 

 

I must admit that I enjoy my life a lot more when I am a cold robot. I must treat my relationship, or lack thereof, with Elliot as a source of amusement rather than a burden. I must reclaim the control that I covet above all else before I truly lose myself to the chaos swirling around me. I must be the God of Chaos and find a way to thrive off of it. I’ve been doing a splendid job of it thus far. 

Elliot Alderson was not the biggest problem in my life. I tried ignoring his big eyes now, going about my business as if it were the morning after a drunken tête-à-tête. Go your way and I’ll go mine. I stayed in the shower too long but he never seemed to notice. Late at night I’d wake up and sit in the moonlight peeking through his blinds. I’d open the window, taking care not to wake him. I’d perfected this technique. Only a few days left. 

I listened to the sounds from the street below and I heard a lot from up there. Twisting my hand over and over, letting the light reflect, I tried my best not to stare at him. By the time I went to bed I had shed a few tears and was stupid enough to cuddle so close to him that he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer. He’d whisper things but I ignored them. 

Days passed.

“Are you ready to go?” My eyes were unfocused, but I could see that his hood was pulled up. I looked around the room until I spotted a mask. Slipped it over my head and grinned at him, although he couldn’t see. 

“Tyrell…”

“What?” I snapped. Part of me wanted to play it off but I didn’t care enough. “Everyone looks like this. You should wear one too.” 

He stared at me for a long time before walking into the ransacked room. I pivoted on my heels to see him rummaging through the backpack he had filled, pulling out a mask that matched mine. He pulled back the band and let it snap on the back of his head. “Ready.” 

“Let’s go.” He was hesitant as he walked over to me, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ve destroyed all evidence of my presence. I presume you haven’t left anything incriminating behind.” He was affronted by my suggestion. 

“N-No. I’ve checked several times.”

I clasped his wrist in my hand and dragged him behind me. He tried to pull away but I wouldn’t let him. Through the door and down two flights of stairs. I released him when we reached the street. Dodging our twin stragglers who cackled and staggered in the morning sun, we crossed the damp road. I wouldn’t look back at him. I couldn’t stand to see his big-eyed pensive face wondering why I refused to speak more than a few words at a time. 

Come, hurry, stop looking around. That’s all I said to him. He was mostly silent but I yearned to be in his head. Maybe then everything would be okay. 

He leaned against the side of the Escalade while I searched. It was identical to the one I used to own, but with a different license plate. My hand was scraped and covered with grease by the time I found the tiny piece of plastic that spelled out our escape in ones and zeroes. I tossed it at him, surprised when he caught it. “Do your thing.”

I sat in the drivers seat looking out of heavily tinted windows as Elliot’s fingers clacked on the keyboard of his laptop. “I’m in,” he announced, and I snatched the USB from the port before he told me it was safe to eject. I plugged it into a hidden port beneath the wheel and waited until it revved. 

“Good job.” I said, resting my chin on my shoulder as I watched him fiddle around. “Thank you.” I mumbled it, knowing we should speed away in case it was a trap. I was paranoid. No one suspected that I was alive but I still couldn’t breathe at the thought of being caught. 

“I…it…you’re welcome.” I wanted to grab him. I wanted to pull him in and yell and cry and kiss him all at once. If I broke the back window with my fist would anyone notice? A worthless man who has lost everything.

“We have to cruise around the front lines.” I said, checking the path ahead and behind before pulling out onto the rain-splattered asphalt. 

Elliot typed furiously in his computer’s terminal, hacking into the various WiFi connections as we cruised along. “Turn left.”

He served as navigator as we snuck our way out of the city. Other than the muffled sounds of an awaking city and Elliot’s typing, the Escalade was dead silent. Once I noticed this I became uncomfortable. Normally I wouldn’t bother with it, but I began to daydream. 

Johanna fucked Scott Knowles. On the security cameras it appeared as if he were attacking her, although she had demanded that he hit her and choke her until bruises dotted her neck. I sent him the video days later, claiming that she had told me he raped her. I threatened to go to the police. The CTO position fell into my lap as quickly as Johanna’s lips found their way back around his cock. I didn’t find out about this until much later. 

“I’m going to leave you,” she told me one evening, nibbling on a éclair and looking up at me through her false eyelashes. “I’ve fallen out of love with you.”

Maybe I couldn’t blame her. I suspect she had always seen right through me. All I thought about was Elliot and how sweet his lips tasted after drinking a dessert wine. Leaving her had never occurred to me, however. It was a bit thrilling to have a secret lover, in my opinion, but apparently she would prefer that her relationship with Scott be exclusive. He was still married but that seemed to matter little to her. I assume he planned to divorce his wife Sharon.

Upon receiving this news, I became furious. Antiques were broken; shards of porcelain lay in a puddle of water and wilted irises. My knuckles bled from putting dents into the walls and cracking pictures of us decorating the house. I cried when her face grew dark and she threatened…no, promised, to take all of my money. When she was done with me, I would be out on the streets. 

I refused to sign the divorce papers for a month. All of the sudden she stopped pestering me. I grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Scott and Johanna were easy to hack.

“My lawyers say there is nothing we can do until he signs the papers. I wish that he was dead.” 

“Is that really what you want?”

“You speak as if this can be arranged.”

“If you hate him that much.”

“I do. I’m certain that I do.”

“Well in that case, it can be arranged. Junkies and bums will do anything for money.”

“Make the arrangements now. I don’t like to wait.”

I am sure that people have wanted to have me killed before, but this seemed like a legitimate threat. I didn’t really care whether or not I was dead, but if someone murders me I want them to suffer. There will be no “getting away with it.” 

After weighing the options, I decided to stage my own death. I drew my blood and paid a generous sum for a dead body on the dark web. I burnt it until there was nothing left other than a toenail that is still growing back in and the charred remnants of one of my suits drenched in blood. I left a garbage bag smeared with more blood, then used the rest of it to splatter the gravel. I waited a day before leaking their text messages that plotted my death, adding in the location of the crime scene, then ran, which is how I ended up at Elliot’s front door. 

I had something else planned to bring the two of them down with me, which is why we couldn’t leave New York just yet. My thoughts drifted to figuring out how I could execute without being seen and without Elliot finding out. 

My head was not a place I enjoyed relaxing in for very long. As an alternative I decided to pry into his. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I don’t know. Everything, and a bit of nothing.” 

“Tell me more about this ‘nothing’.” 

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know, Tyrell. I was wondering if my whole life is just a part of some cosmic black comedy that even I’m too sane to enjoy.”

“I’ve seen you happy before.”

“Was I drunk?”

I smiled a little for the first time in a while. “No. I was telling you embarrassing stories.”

“You’ve been embarrassed?”

“Rarely, but when it happens, it’s worthy of remembrance and eventual ridicule. Only by me, of course.”

“I… I don’t remember.”

“Would you like for me to tell one now?”

“I…if you want.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I was in show choir?”

A flash of brown in my peripheral vision made me look at him. His face held an expression dangerously close to amusement. “Are you serious?”

I chuckled. “Close your eyes and picture all of this. Swedish middle school. I was nearly as charming as I am now so I could basically do whatever I wanted. Made out with the whole choir at least once…but that’s not part of the story. We had a big Christmas show. Bright lights, decorated evergreens in front of the stage, an auditorium full of family and classmates. I’m not sure what idiot chose our costumes, but the girls looked like old women from a rural village in Eastern Europe while the boys’ outfit consisted of a florescent green leotard, Santa hat, and a red blinking clown nose.” I shook my head as if to shake the traumatizing image from my mind. 

“Is there photographic evidence of this?” 

“Oh, I destroyed it all long ago. But if you’d like to see me in full-body spandex all you have to do is beg, Älskling.” I can’t express how pleased I was to see him blush and quickly glance away. I hoped he was imagining it, imagining his hands exploring every inch of me, only a thin layer of fabric separating us… I shifted in my seat and tightened my grip on the steering wheel, trying not to let my mind drift to everything I wanted to do to him. I composed myself enough to finish my story, which concluded on a very un-sexy note. 

“Anyway, let’s return to my cautionary tale. Allow me to introduce a new character, little Martin. Martin had problems with his colon and was getting surgery the next day. Obviously the doctors don’t want to be sloshing around in your business so 24 hours before the operation takes place, the patient has to drink a half-gallon of some beverage with serious laxative properties. Poor Martin forgot about the Christmas concert, drank the whole half-gallon before he remembered. He was a very punctual fellow, and so he panicked, put on his leotard and showed up for the performance anyway.”

“Oh Jesus…”

“I can see that you’re intuitive enough to get the gist of where this is going. We are about halfway through the show when he gets this pained expression on his face. Soon he begins to tear up. A few times he misses a step to clutch at his stomach in agony. Finally, he can’t stand it anymore. He shits all over the place, and it is explosive. I’m not sure what he’d eaten but it was enough that it leaked out of his costume and left a large puddle in the middle of the stage. We were in the middle of a new formation, and it was time for me to slide in front of dear Martin to have my moment in the spotlight. Oh, and did I slide. I slipped and fell right on my ass, and the momentum of me skipping forwards made me ride on a glistening stream of shit and fly off of the stage. I crashed into several of the trees and broke my arm. Before anyone could check to see if I was okay, I climbed back on stage covered in shit and started punched Martin with my good arm while screaming. There were quite a lot of pictures of this as well. Thankfully no trace of them has yet been found.”

Elliot laughed so hard that he cried, which is exactly what I wanted. I hated that fucking story. I detested the memory of it, hating that something so disgustingly human had happened in my past. But there was that infuriating power that Elliot had over me, one that at times made his happiness seem paramount to my own. I trusted that he wouldn’t tease me about it later. My primary hope was that he would see me differently, knowing that even I have been covered in shit before. Me. The scary malevolent god. 

Maybe the story was a bit unnecessary, but I am a little incompetent when it comes to genuine human interaction, so when it came to opening myself up to Elliot it seemed like a reasonable option. I was grinning now and I couldn't stop, riding on a high from knowing that there was still some hope for us after all.

 

Tyrell had never looked as perfect to me than in that moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upstate cabins and hot apple cider. Tyrell has to leave soon.

We drove until the city lights faded far behind us. For hours the forest grew more dense, the scenery more beautiful. Before I knew it we had arrived in upstate New York. I was a little confused; Tyrell had talked at length about moving out West and yet here we were, still in the heart of the East Coast. Not long after I mustered up the courage to roll down my window, the Escalade turned down a well-camouflaged gravel road. A voice in the back of my head suggested he might be bringing me here to kill me. A more logical voice encouraged me to look outside at the scene coming together before us. The tops of luxury cabins peeked at us from behind tall hedges. “These are vacation homes, but a lot of people live here year-round,” Tyrell explained. “We will be joining the ranks of said people…at least for a little while.”

I stayed quiet, trying to decide if I was feeling excited or terrified. Soon we arrived at our “cabin”, complete with large picture windows overlooking the ocean and a fenced-in garden with a man-made stream and redwood patio. It was rustic, and beautiful. I didn’t notice when the ignition shut off until I felt Tyrell staring at me. “Do you like it?” he asked. 

“Of course…”

“You were the first person to walk in after I bought it.” He fiddled around with the USB drive before tossing it under the seat. “It’s ours… or yours, really. I must say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t recognize it.” _Mine?_ Was he serious? 

"You never asked to stay here, even for a weekend with me. It kind of made me feel... well, we're here now, so I don't regret buying it."

"Couldn't someone find us here? Like Johanna..."

"No. I paid for it in cash. There's no record of it, I never told her about our little love nest." He winked at me, making me blush. "Come. Grab your things. We can change and make drinks."

I obeyed him without a word, listening to his voice and gazing around the house as he gave me the tour. "You can sleep in here. My room's across the hall..." He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around like mad. He wanted to say something. Maybe he regretted giving me an option other than sleeping in the same bed as him. Before I knew it he had disappeared into the hallway. I walked over to close the bedroom door, catching a glimpse of him tugging his shirt over his head. Once the door was closed I felt I could breathe for the first time in weeks. My heart always raced when he was around, although I couldn't decide why that could be. 

Surprisingly, the closet was filled with clothes that fit me. By "fit" I mean the shirt I chose was baggy, just the way I like it. After I changed and washed my face I pulled my laptop from my bag and carried it out into the living room. I picked a spot on a couch in front of a cold fireplace, crossed my legs, and got to work. 

I became curious about the type of people who lived around us. People who lived in vacation homes full time. So, naturally, I hacked them. I was fascinated by the frequency of breakups taking place, and when Tyrell caught me snooping he became intrigued as well. I ignored the shivers rippling throughout my body as he hovered over my shoulder, the ice in his glass clinking as he brought the bourbon to his lips. “I know his brother. He’s in no position to be breaking off his engagement with a European heiress when his family is going bankrupt…must not know then, poor fool.”

Glancing at him I could see that his brow was furrowed with genuine concern. “So you think he would be better off staying in a loveless relationship rather than being happy?”

“No need to phrase it that way. If the alternative is financial ruin, scandal, and the destruction of his way of life then yes, of course. What a silly question.”

“You can be such an asshole.” 

He quickly downed the rest of his drink, straightened himself out and tugged at the bottom of an adorable paisley sweater from one of the cabin’s fully stocked closets. “Yes, but I don’t know any better.”

Although I admit that I can be a dick at times even when Mr. Robot isn't around, in that moment I could only dwell on the fact that Tyrell and I were infinitely different. I hadn't realized it yet but I was constantly coming up with reasons as to why I shouldn't allow myself to fall for him. This train of thought soon abandoned me as I watched him walk around the couch and sink into the cushion beside me. 

 

“Elliot, this is a different situation entirely. You are always the exception.”

“I don’t care about that Tyrell. Why would I care that you feel that way? It’s not like there’s anything going on between us, anyway.”

I could tell that he struggled to hide his hurt feelings. He ran his fingers through my hair before cupping the back of my head and rubbing his thumb behind my ear. “I have to go back to the city for a couple of days. I’ve got some matters to attend to before we can leave for good.”

“What…what do you mean? You’re leaving me?” 

“I’ll be back, I promise.”

“What do you have to do?”

“Just business.” 

I sighed. “What if you get caught, Tyrell? What am I supposed to do-”

“No one will see me. It’s only for a couple of days. I’ll call when I can. Look at me.” How could he be so confident?

I pulled my eyes from the fireplace to recognize a face I knew all too well. “Tyrell…”

I had never been kissed with such gentle passion and the sensations it aroused within me were painfully pleasurable. I felt a tugging in my chest and twisting in my stomach and tingling in my cock that I wanted to go away. His lips were soft, and spicy from the bourbon. I fought off a whimper when he pulled away. “Everything will be okay. I’ll come back for you.” Breathless, I could only manage a nod. 

“It’s a bit chilly. I’ll make us some hot cider.” He rose from the couch, grabbed his empty glass from the table, and walked into the kitchen. I watched as he poured apple cider into a pot on the stove. He tossed cinnamon sticks, a splash of bourbon, and a couple other ingredients into the pot as well. Everything he did looked effortless. Although he appeared to put forth very little effort I knew that he was aware of exactly what he was doing, and the end result would be perfect. Just like everything else about him… 

“I wish you would tell me the truth.” There was a momentary hiccup in his movements as he looked at me over his shoulder. “You can trust me.”

An intoxicating scent began to fill the cabin, and I could almost taste the tart cider already. “About what?” he asked casually, returning to preparing our drinks. I caught him taking a swig of dark liquor straight from the bottle. 

“About everything. Obviously I would just… let you lead me to the ends of the earth, but it’s a little exhausting being left in the dark about so many things…”

“I don’t want to talk about it now.” His voice grew heavy. “I just have some loose ends to tie up in the city. Don’t think about it too much. You’ll upset yourself for no reason.”

He ladled the cider into two large mugs and returned to his seat beside me on the couch. “Be careful,” he said as he handed one of the drinks to me, “it’s nearly boiling hot.”

Why did he have to lie to me? If he didn’t trust me then why was I here in the first place? Probably just for his entertainment… he knew he could manipulate me and play with me like a toy so he decided to keep me around. To own me… 

“Do you remember the first time I brought you here?” 

I should have known that I’d been to the cabin before; the atmosphere was too familiar, and I seemed to have long established my “spot” on the couch. “Have I been here several times?”

Tyrell sank back into the cushions, letting his gaze linger on the crackling fire. “We’ve spent a couple of weekends wrapped up in each other on this very couch. I pity you for losing those memories. They were some of the happiest days of my life.” 

I watched him silently as he blew the steam from his mug and burned his tongue on the cider. All of the sudden it became clear to me that Mr. Robot was not my only other identity. Perhaps the version of me that Tyrell knows… he could be the real Elliot. Mr. Robot reset him to the factory settings and now the world is left with me. 

I remembered most things about my relationship with Tyrell other than, well…our relationship. I remember being confused as to why he doted on me so much during our dinner meetings… or is that just how I remember it now? The more time I spent with him the more I mourned the time I had lost. Had he made me happy? How much was he _really_ suffering right now?

“Could you tell me about it? The first time…”

“Yes, of course.” I focused on his mouth instead of worrying over his refusal to look at me while he spoke. “You thought it was over the top and refused to accept that I had purchased this place for just the two of us. I allowed you to believe what you wanted so that you would relax. It wasn’t a business meeting; there was no need for logistics.”

“It was the first time we were together without a deadline looming over us. It was your idea to shut off our phones and hide any clocks in the house. We split a large joint out on the roof and sat out there for a long time until I started talking about all of the ways we could accidently fall off and injure ourselves and it freaked you out. You were a little upset with me, which I found endearing. You said I was a ‘morbid buzzkill’, which I argued was the best and most accurate description of my personality that I’d ever heard.” 

“Then we started drinking, and talked.”

The room began to spin, and I was transported back to that night. We had played charades. I laughed while he impersonated Terry Colby. “I told you I loved you.” 

“Hm. You remember that, do you? You were very drunk.”

“You didn’t say anything back.”

“Like I always say, Älskling. I’m not human. I was able to explain it in a way that you understood…”

“Explain again.”

“Imagine a snow man that by nature must be repulsed by warmth even though its absence leaves unbearable sorrow and longing inside of him.”

“So you were repulsed by me?”

“No. This isn’t something that makes much sense to me, Elliot. I can’t remember exactly what I said to you before. I think you just knew me a bit better than you do now, so you could understand without me explaining myself.”

“I can’t believe I said that…”

“But now you don’t love me.”

“Now I don’t love you.”

Finally, his red-rimmed eyes met mine. “Funny, isn’t it? You’re saner now than you’ve ever been. Loving me was a foolish lapse of judgment.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk.

The sound of preening crickets seeped through the corners of my bedroom window when I started packing things for a final visit to the city. I must have looked crazy, wandering the house in nothing but a pair of boxers and thick wool socks. It was cold but I was also drunk. 

Elliot was asleep. After our painful conversation, he had retreated with his laptop to look for something in his room, then never returned. I’d heard a loud sniff, and I would like to flatter myself and attribute it to a crying spell over his inability to admit his enduring love for me. Alas I am too intelligent to believe in such fantasies; he was taking morphine. Where the hell had he gotten it? My irritation prevailed over my concern, so instead of confronting him I periodically placed my ear on the door until I heard his gentle, drugged-up snoring.

It seemed wholly unnecessary. I was taking care of him now. I tried to make him smile, gave him space, had brought him to this beautiful cabin and he thanks me by getting high. I’m not sure what I had expected, but he had displeased me. That’s why I was packing so late at night while stumbling around and cussing and vowing to leave without saying goodbye to him. 

In the kitchen I found a medium sized insulated lunch bag, then placed it on the counter. I filled it up with a packet of Clorox wipes, a few pairs of blue latex gloves, large zip ties, a flask of whiskey, and three plastic wrapped cheese sandwiches on whole wheat bread. I nearly sprinted outside with the supplies, placing them in the trunk beside an overnight bag. There was a blanket folded up in the corner, and on an impulse I tossed it over the top of the two bags. My eyes darted around in the darkness while I closed the hatchback as silently as I could. Once content with the absence of sentient life in the area I sprinted back inside and locked the door.

“Bunch of fucking bullshit.” I hissed, walking into the kitchen and pouring three fingers of vodka into a mug sitting in the sink. “I should be packing for a business trip or something. This is fucking bullshit.” 

As I sipped on my drink I walked over to the knife set and slipped the biggest one out of the block. The blade was smooth and cold. I scraped my thumb over the edge as if to cut the print away. I dipped it into the vodka, and then carefully stuck the tip of the knife in my mouth to suck up the alcohol it had picked up. It felt dangerous. Similar to how standing on the edge of a cliff elicits the urge to jump off, my mind conjured the sensation of pushing the knife deeper into my mouth and down my throat like a circus freak.

“What the fuck, Tyrell?” Stainless steel nicked my tongue as it fell out of my mouth and clattered loudly onto the countertop.

“Jesus, Elliot!”

“What are you doing?”

“Baking a fucking cake.” I took the rest of my drink as a shot while he walked over to me, hair an adorable mess, eyes wide and tired. It hurt like hell. “What are you doing? I thought you were busy with whatever it is you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” I just looked at him as I crossed my arms and leaned my back against the marble behind me. He shook his head. “I was asleep. I had a nightmare and woke up and came out here... for a drink.”

I picked up the vodka and when he was close enough I held it out to him. He preferred any other type of alcohol but I enjoyed watching him choke it down. There was a long pause while he eyed the bottle now in his hands. Eventually, he scrunched up his nose and tilted his head back. Impressed by his large gulps, I had to fight back a smile. “What time is it?” He asked, struggling not to cough. I shrugged.

“No clocks, remember? The owls, however, tell me that the moon ushered in the new day over an hour ago.” I had seen the time on the dashboard’s glowing digital clock while packing up the Escalade. Elliot was too busy drinking to comment. It occurred to me that alcohol and morphine was a dangerous combination. “Recount your nightmare.”

“I just remember been followed around by some… thing with a fucked up face. Exaggerated smile, unblinking eyes, stringy black hair. The whole dream consisted of an average day, but when something ‘good’ happened, the face would flash across my vision, as if I were watching the dream on a screen. It was attacking me instead of my dream self… like it acknowledged the separation between the two of us. I could see it following me around in the dream, and, well you were there at some point. You gave me a feather and just as I allowed myself to feel happy, that face popped up again.”

“Why would I give you a feather?”

“I don’t know, Tyrell, that isn’t the point.” 

“Hm.” I paused. “Do you get nightmares often?”

“I don’t know. I have unhappy dreams. This one seemed less realistic and had horror-movie elements, hence why I refer to it as a nightmare.”

“Fascinating distinction.” 

“Why are you awake right now?”

“Well since this is the first time we haven’t shared a bed in quite some time I’ve found it impossible to accustom myself to sleeping alone again in a single night.” My churlishness surprised him.

“Are you upset with me?” 

“Certainly not.”

“Tyrell…”

“You did make me cut myself just now. Tell me if I’m bleeding.”

I showed him my tongue and he nodded. “A little bit. Why were you-”

“Stop asking so many questions, Elliot. I’ll even say please.”

“I’m shocked.” 

I chuckled, reaching out to take the bottle back from him. He took another swig before handing it to me. It was almost empty so I finished it off, screwed the cap on, and tossed it into the recycling. When I faced him again Elliot seemed to have moved closer to me.

“There are moments when I feel dizzy, and I remember something that I’ve forgotten,” he said, studying my face. It was very strong vodka that I had given him, and it was already making him bold. “Just now, I remembered a feeling.”

“I was under the impression that morphine prevents you from feeling anything at all.”

He glared, but other than that paid no attention to my barb. “Don’t you want to know what feeling it was?”

“Indigestion?”

“No.”

“Trepidation?”

“Different time.”

“Exasperation?” 

“Right now, yes.” 

“Go on, then.”

“It was a sensation. Of me… touching you.” His face and neck reddened as he scanned my body, reminding me of my current state of undress.

“Where.” My voice had fallen to a low, hungry sound. “Show me.” Fluffed up with drink, he closed the distance between us. Although buzzing with anticipation, I stood rigid, afraid that a sudden movement might scare him away.

His warm hands grazed the skin from my wrists to my shoulders, leaving goose bumps in their wake. I allowed my head to drift back but still watched him exploring me. Moaning when his lips found my chest seemed to encourage him to continue. “Everywhere,” he murmured, moving his mouth over my nipple, licking and nipping at it until it hardened.

Without warning I grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to look at me. “Elliot?”

“It’s me.” His voice was gentle, eyes timid, cheeks flushed, lips red. “Tyrell. Can I kiss you?”

“Of-of course, Älskling.” I couldn’t believe it was happening. Mr. Robot was nowhere to be found and it was just Elliot and I sharing this moment. For the first time since he had forgotten everything, his lips pressed against mine of their own volition. 

As if my case of the Elliot flu weren’t severe enough, now he was taking it upon himself to ensure that I couldn’t reason away the possibility that this meant something. His arms wrapped around me so carefully, as if he thought I might break. He wasn’t rushing or throwing himself onto me with Mr. Robot’s deranged sense of urgency… it’s like he wanted this to last forever. So many fucking emotions that I don’t need to have, thoughts that make my head messier than it needed to be with everything else going on.

Somehow we ended up in my room. When he sat down on the edge of the bed he seemed smaller, and afraid.

“We don’t have to do anything Elliot,” I told him, though I would have to fight down the boner straining against the sky-blue fabric of my boxers. My lucky underwear. They matched my favorite suit.

He shushed, and his hungry expression made me question whether I simply imagined him as meek in my head. “Come here.”

I walked towards him, stopping when my legs hit the bed and Elliot sandwiched them between his knees. My breath hitched as he began rubbing my cock. “Explain to me… why I want you so badly.”

Before I could answer my boxers had fallen to my ankles and the feeling of his hot breath against exposed skin made my brain fog. “B-because you know we’re supposed to be together?” He shook his head, but that didn’t stop him from licking the tip of mine with his tongue. I was trying very hard to remain calm. I didn’t want to ruin…whatever this was. What if I was dreaming?

“I wish I remembered what it was like to be in love, but I don’t.” He took the length of me into his mouth and began bobbing his head faster and faster. That must have been his way of saying, _but I still want you._ I growled and couldn’t resist grasping a fistful of his overgrown hair. My mind wouldn’t shut up about the fact that we shouldn’t do this if it meant nothing. Oh, but I wanted him so desperately. I jacked off far too often to the memory of his wet mouth sucking me off, just the way it was right now.

I quickly pulled away from him before I came. Not yet. I had waited too long for this. “Di-did I do something wrong?” He looked up at me with sad eyes and I fell to my knees, clasping his sweet face between my hands.

“Of course not. You were perfect.” I looked at him for a moment longer until he relaxed again. “Now…take your clothes off and climb on the bed.”

When I saw how hard he was I almost lost it. He was finally back where he was meant to be—on our bed, in our cabin, cock throbbing, practically begging me to fuck him…the only thing missing was the begging.

“Tell me what you want,” I demanded, slowly climbing on top of him.

“I-I… don’t know.” His chest rose and fell rapidly, so I leaned down and began kissing along his collar bone with the hopes that it might calm him down. “Now, Elliot. You must tell me what you want or I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.” I reached between us and began stroking his cock. He started to moan and I love that fucking sound so I went faster and faster, but then he started moving his hips so I took my hand away.

“Now, Elliot. You must tell me what you want or I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.” I reached between us and began stroking his cock. He started to moan and I love that fucking sound so I went faster and faster, but then he started moving his hips so I took my hand away. 

“Tyrell, _please_ …”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t…”

“Tell me what you want or you get nothing.”

“I…”

Despite my threats, I couldn’t help but bite his neck and grind myself against him. After last time… I couldn’t do anything more until he said it. “It’s not hard.”

He shut his eyes, then whispered, “You.”

That stoked the fire raging within me, but it wasn’t enough. “What about me?” 

“I-I want you.”

Oh, my Elliot. “What do you want me to do, Älskling?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Oh God Tyrell, please, I can’t stand it--” That was what I needed. I needed him to beg. My head spun as I reached over to the bedside table, fumbling to get the drawer open and pull out some lube. Situating myself between his legs, I squeezed the slippery gel all over my cock. I stared down at him for a moment, noticing that he was both frightened and eager; although he was shaking a little bit he was already spreading himself for me as if he subconsciously remembered what to do. I covered him with lube as well, whispering comforting words as I stuck one finger in his tight hole, then two. “Th-this feels like my first time,” he said softly, making me chuckle.

“Well, you can think of it that way, if you’d like.” I hoped he wouldn’t think about last time… it seemed like he wasn’t but sometimes it was hard to know what was going on his head, even for me. Or maybe I was feeling a little dull from the alcohol and lust. “That does put a lot of pressure on me, though. To make sure that you enjoy it.”

I stuck a third finger inside of him. He tensed up but soon he relaxed, and before long I was easing my cock deep inside of him. It hadn’t felt that good in ages. Elliot’s knuckles were white from clutching the sheets, the muscles in his arms straining as he fought to keep from floating into oblivion. My fingers dug into his hips and the sound of our hot, wet skin smacking against each other intermingled with his moans. “Fuck, yes Tyrell, god fuck me, I’m yours.”

“Again,” I huffed.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m…” I must have his a good spot because he practically screamed with pleasure.

“Yes you fucking are,” I was so close to coming, and I could tell that he was too. “You’re mine. You belong to _me_ , you’ve always fucking belonged to me.” Control issues? There can be no issues when you already control everything. I aimed for that sweet spot and fucked him as hard and as fast as I could.

After we both came, I collapsed. I was acutely aware of the mess, tried to enjoy the moment, but ended up fetching a dampened towel from the bathroom. Elliot watched me while I cleaned, folded up the dirty towel, and draped it over an upholstered reading chair in the corner of the room.

“Why do you have to leave?”

My head spun. My stomach reeled. The curse of excessive drink finally took effect. Even the thought of vomiting disgusted me, so I quickly turned the lights off and sank onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” 

“Mm.” Colorful profanity from my homeland struggled to leave my lips. They stopped when I felt a hand press against my cheek.

“Please.”

“I thought you liked…alone time.” I would be furious if I threw up.

 “I’m afraid you’ll do something stupid.”

“We are not doing this now.”

“How can you be so cold after what’s just happened?”

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw that he was crying. “Oh, fuck, Elliot…” I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him closer to me. Our kiss was long, slow, and deliberate. My way of apologizing. “I won’t leave, okay? If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

 “Really?” 

“Of course.”

“I… I love you, Tyrell.” I nearly choked. Logically I knew he didn’t mean it but my heart reacted as if it were true. He was drunk and suffering from post-coitus euphoria. He didn’t mean it, so I said nothing. I kissed him and closed my eyes, hoping that we would soon fall asleep.

In the morning I drank a large pot of coffee as I wrote Elliot a note. My heart raced while I showered and dressed myself, afraid that he would wake up before I was gone. It’s not that I was upset with him about what had happened... on the contrary. If he did anything else to pull the strings of my heart I would lose the will to leave.

“This is the last time I’ll have to leave,” I whispered, kissing his forehead. “I promise.” Nearly tripping over myself as he shifted in his sleep, I hurried out of the room and was cruising down the interstate before he could open his eyes.


End file.
